


Flower Crowns and Fuckery

by drugdog



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: F/M, M/M, everyone is gay and drunk, except harry he's drunk and straight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 06:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2015127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drugdog/pseuds/drugdog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It ended with most everybody lying in a field, the excuse being some sort of training exercise, everyone warm with alcohol in their guts but Winters. They were getting practice in making flower crowns, an important skill on the field.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flower Crowns and Fuckery

**Author's Note:**

> just in case you're feeling down

Getting drunk before two o’ clock was something only Nixon did, but that day was different for all of Easy Company. It ended with most everybody lying in a field, the excuse being some sort of training exercise, everyone warm with alcohol in their guts but Winters. They were getting practice in making flower crowns, an important skill on the field.

Joe and Bill had separated themselves from the group somewhat, close enough to hear quiet chatter, but far enough to be able to focus on other things.

"What do you think that cloud looks like?" Joe asked, rolling onto his side to look at Bill. He was lying on his back, hands behind his head, with his eyes closed and his jaw jutted out further than usual. Peaceful was the first word to come to mind when he looked at him. _  
_

He was wearing a flower crown Joe had made him, pushed up into his hair. Joe wanted to touch it- the flower crown, Bill's hair, Bill in general.

"My eyes," Bill replied, cracking one open in the slightest, "are fuckin’ closed, Joe. I don't wanna look at no goddamn cloud."

"Open ‘em up, then," Joe said. Bill did. Joe pointed up. "See that one, Bill? Big. Sorta lumpy. What’s it look like?"

Bill squinted against the warm, bright sunlight. He huffed. “Don’t look like nothin’. Just a damn cloud. Don’t you got somethin’ better to do?”

"No."

There was silence between them for a moment, and then, almost sheepishly, Bill said, "What d'you think it looks like, Joe?"

Joe scratched the back of his neck. "I don't know. I was hoping you would."

/

Skip cackled, crouched in the grass, hands cupped together. Penkala wasn’t far behind him, one of his hands in a fist, and Malarkey looked out on the big group of lazy, catlike paratroopers with his arms crossed over his chest. His yellow flower crown was a stark contrast against the pale blue sky.

"Who do you wanna get, Skip?" Penkala whispered, as if he could be heard, as if he were a child again.

"Well," Skip said, shifting his hands with a grimace. "I don’t care. Just so long as we get rid of them. My hands're sweating almost as much as my b-"

"Perco, then," Malarkey broke in. "C’mon, boys."

Quiet as half-drunk, excited young men could be, the three stumbled over to Perco, who was laughing his ass off at something Luz was saying, back to them. Skip winked and put a finger- well, he would’ve if his hands were free, he really just put them both near his mouth- to his lips when Luz looked at him.

One second, Perco was laughing, and the next, he was screaming, swatting what had to be dozens of ladybugs from his uniform.

"You fuckers!"

/

"What’s going on, Nix?" Dick said, squirming to be more comfortable, half on the grass and half on Nix’s chest. He’d heard screaming and was far too content to bother getting up to look. He did, however, open his eyes, interrupted from the smooth flow of Nix’s voice, telling him stories he’d heard a million times before.

"Looks like the boys found some ladybugs," Nix replied with a chuckle, a slur in his voice brought on by whiskey. "Didja ever hear about the time I got twenty bucks off my neighbor just for being a ‘sweet young man?’" he added on, as if it were an afterthought. 

Nix ran his fingers through Dick’s hair, careful to avoid the flower crown on him that was red enough to rival any ginger in the company.

"Yes, I did, Nix, and any other childhood story you’re thinking of," Dick sighed. He curled his fingers into Nix’s shirt and shut his eyes again.

/

"This reminds me of Kitty," Harry said, lying back in the grass. "We used to do this when we first started dating. She was so damn good at making flower crowns, she was."

Buck looked up from the flower crown he was making. “Please, Harry, for once, shut up about her. I can make you one that's even better.”

/

"You look like a goddamn queer in that flower crown," Liebgott snapped, looking at Webster with the slightest flush on his cheeks.

"It’s blue. Reminds me of the ocean. Of sharks." Webster smiled at him. Joe frowned in return and checked under his nails for dirt.

"Shut the fuck up, writer boy," he replied, but didn’t complain when Web set a neatly-weaved crown on his head.

/

"Look at Lip go, then," Luz said, voice muffled around a Lucky Strike. "He's better than Buck."

Lip looked up from the crown he was making with a small smile. "I don't think so, Luz. Could use a little work, I think."

The men's protests against Lip were cut short when a shadow fell over the group. Lip was the first to look up and was the first to see Captain Speirs standing there, arms crossed over his chest and a cigarette turning to ash in the corner of his mouth.

"This doesn't look like a training exercise, First Sergeant," Speirs commented, raising his brows, "but I'll say, your skill in making these crowns is exceptional."

Lip flushed. "Thank you Captain," he said, standing. He reached out, putting the crown onto his head. "It's not quite, ah..." he bent and plucked another flower from the ground. With deft fingers, he tucked the last flower into place. "There."

Speirs' eyes had widened. Lip was almost close enough for their chests to brush. "First Sergeant," he said, "are you drunk?"

The knot of paratroopers broke into a bout of almost-terrified laughter.

/

The day passed by and, by then, most of the paratroopers had fallen asleep, beginning to sunburn. Luz and his boys had gone to Bill and Joe, who had fallen asleep tucked up to each other, and surrounded them with flowers.

Babe had made a flower crown that, even with Buck’s masterful help, he viewed with distaste. He was tempted to leave it on the ground somewhere and try to do it again.

Even so, he stepped over to where Doc Roe was sitting, wanting to wring his hands with nervousness. There was more shade there, and Babe was relieved from the constant warmth of the sun. He was sure his neck was beginning to fry.

Gene looked up when the awkward form of Babe became too much to ignore. “Hello, Edward,” he said. "Someone passed out drunk and not breathin' too good?"

"It’s Babe," he automatically corrected, and felt a flush spread above his collar when he realized his mistake. "No, everybody's alright. I, uh… I made you this."

Confusion flashed across Gene’s face for a split second. Babe would’ve panicked if said face hadn’t broken out into one of its ever-so-rare smiles.

"Thank you, Heffron," he said. "That musta taken a while." He gestured for Babe to put it on.

Babe crouched down and pushed the crown onto Gene’s unruly, dark hair, offering an awkward smile. He got up and turned to leave. He'd get ragged on by the boys for weeks if he was seen with the medic.

"Hey, Heffron. Siddown. Let’s talk, huh?"

Babe turned back and sat cross-legged in the grass. An order coming from Gene was not to be ignored.


End file.
